Child Abuse Story From Jasmin:

Since I was little I have always been beaten up by my
parents. I remember when I was 4, my grandparents had come round from India and
they come to stay at my parents' house. My granddad asked me for some water and
I said "no". I don't know why I said this but I did. My granddad
locked me in the cellar. It was dark and cold, and it was horrible.

My parents would fight, and my mum would cry. I was little so
I couldn't really understand what was happening.

My dad and my mum's friend use to come round when I was the
age of 6, and my mum would sometimes leave me and my brother with him. One day,
my mum had taken my brother out, so it was just me and him. He took me upstairs
and he started to feel me and kiss me. The thought of this now just makes me
want to cry. But after this, it kept happening. I didn't tell my mum or dad
because I didn't know what was happening, and also he told me that I could not
tell anyone otherwise he was going to do something bad to me. I was scared. This
kept happening for a couple of months. One day, my mum and my dad stopped
talking to him because they got into an argument. I was happy. I was never
going to see him again. I was lucky.

I thought things were getting a little better, but I was
still getting beaten by my parents over little things. I was not happy.

Then later on, my mum had a friend and we use to go to
their house. My mum's friend had a son who was ten years older then me. He
would take me upstairs and start feeling me up. I am so ashamed of it now. But
then my mum stopped taking me to their house. I was very happy, but I was still
being hurt.

One time, my mum was hitting me with a stick. She gave me a
black eye, then the next day she helped me cover it up, but I was still sad. I
have been hit on my eye on various occasions with a shoe and her hand. I have
been hit so many times. I remember being slapped and whacked with cables.
My parents would hit me with anything they could find. I was chased with a
stick and the stick would break because she would hit me so hard. My brother
was loved more then me maybe, perhaps because he was a boy. My mum would never
say sorry. I hate life sometimes.

At the age of 13, when I had started to go to my friend's
house, my dad always thought that I was doing something wrong. He always
thought that I had gone to meet boys and I was having sex with them. I never felt
secure or safe in my house. I hated life.

At the age of 14, my parents split up. I was not happy, but
I also wasn't sad. I went to live with my mum because I thought she would
change, and my brother went to live with my dad. I have more freedom because I
live with my mum and she doesn't think that I do wrong stuff. But to be honest,
I hate her.

I have an aunt who is my mum's real sister. I don't know
what I would do with out her. I tell her everything about what my mum does to
me. She listens to me all the time. She is my world.

Now I am 15. On Christmas day, my mum burnt me with my hair
straighteners twice, because I got into an argument with her. I had to cover it
up when I went to my aunty's house, but it really stung. I had to cover it up because
of my uncle and my mum said I had to. When I got to my aunty's house, I really
wanted to tell her, but I couldn't find a chance. My mum was purposely sticking
to her so I couldn't. I knew my mum was going to do this. But when I got there,
I told my 7-year-old cousin to come upstairs and I told him what happened.
When it was time to eat Christmas dinner I didn't want to eat it because I was
so sad. My uncle asked me why I wasn't eating anything. I just said to him I
was ill. When I went into the kitchen, my mum went upstairs to the toilet. I
quickly told my aunt. I started to cry and I told her everything. I had to stop
because my mum came back downstairs. So I went upstairs, hiding my face so my
mum couldn't see it. When we got home, I didn't talk to my mum. A week later,
we had to go back to school. The burn was very deep and it hadn't healed, so I
wore a bandage over it to cover it. In PE, people were asking me what happened.
I told them that I was getting toast out of the grill and the grill tray fell
on my arm. They all believed it. My teacher asked me and I told her the same. I
think she believed it, but I am not sure. She wanted to have a look at it. I
didn't show her because the marks were not the shape of a grill tray. You could
tell that I had been burnt by the plates of a straightener. So I said to her
that she couldn't look at it because I didn't want any one to look at it. She
said ok. But now I have 2 scars on my arm which I have to hide.

Now if I am sad I will eat and eat until I feel better. Then
I worry about my weight. I think I am fat. I don't know what is going to happen
to me in the future. Hopefully it is going to be good. Every day I go to school
with a smile on my face. I love going to school. It feels like a place that I
am welcomed in. I absolutely hate holidays and I wish I am at school instead. But
I have to say that I am not the only one that faces abuse at home. Some of my
friends at school have told me about what their parents do to them. I have
always been a shy person. I try hard at school. I think I have faced a lot, but
there are people out there who have to face much worse than me.

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Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge the child abuse
stories on this site are true. While I cannot guarantee
this, I do try to balance the need for the submitter to be
heard and validated with the needs of my visitors.